


Note To Self

by Metal_Ox137



Series: Doctor Who Companions: The Library of Time [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Ox137/pseuds/Metal_Ox137
Summary: Clara has known for some time that Ashildr keeps a diary. What she doesn’t know is how much more Ashildr needs to document, in order to function from one day to the next.
Relationships: Ashildr | Lady Me/Clara Oswin Oswald
Series: Doctor Who Companions: The Library of Time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090514
Kudos: 9





	Note To Self

Clara woke first. It was still warm inside the cottage. She became aware of a slight but persistent weight on her chest. Clara lifted her head just enough to see that Ashildr was sleeping soundly, partly on top of her. Some time during the night, Ashildr had snuggled close, and was now using Clara’s right breast as a pillow, one of her arms draped across Clara’s torso. Bright sunlight was pouring in through the small window on the other side of the room. Clara let her head fall back and closed her eyes. She could hear the soft ululations of birdsong outside the cottage. Inside, everything was stilled and quiet. Ashildr’s breathing was deep and regular. Clara could now sense that her skin was wet - Ashildr had obviously spent the better part of the night drooling on her chest. Clara decided she was fine with that. 

In many ways, this was Clara’s favorite part of the day - that short, blessed interval between that first glimmer of consciousness and full waking. Before her mind started buzzing like a beehive. Before her body began making demands of its own. In that short space, she could simply be - existing without ego, without self, only the most peripheral awareness of herself and her immediate surroundings. This morning, she felt the weight and warmth of Ashildr’s body pressing against her own, and the sensation was like a state of grace. 

Too soon, Clara knew, she’d need to get up and relieve herself. Thankfully, her body wasn’t that awake yet. But she could sense Ashildr’s breathing changing ever so slightly - she was exiting her deep sleep cycle, and would probably wake in the next few minutes. Clara’s brain, however, had definitely restarted - memories, thoughts, emotions - oh, the noise! 

They had landed yesterday morning, somewhere in England, sometime in the 12th century. Clara had confirmed the particulars of their landing site on the TARDIS console, but she couldn’t remember them, mostly because she wasn’t paying close enough attention. Ashildr was on the verge of a “synaptic leak” - an acutely painful episode of lost memories temporarily returning to the forefront of her consciousness. As Ashildr described it to Clara, it was like being trapped inside a waking dream from which she couldn’t escape. These “fits” didn’t happen often, but when they did, Ashildr was debilitated for hours or even days at a time. Usually, the memories were her most painful ones, and this time was no exception. She was recalling vividly losing her entire family to plague - her strong, gentle husband, along with her four children, two sons and two daughters. This time, however, Ashildr was able to retain awareness of her present place and time, even if the memories kept intruding into her thoughts. Clara had hurriedly set the time ship down in a rural part of England, where she knew they were unlikely to be disturbed. For the better part of day, Ashildr sobbed uncontrollably as she re-lived an unsurvivable grief. In her darker moments, Ashildr bitterly cursed the magician who had made her immortal. No one should ever have to live through such a horrifying event - not even once, let alone dozens of times. 

When the worst of the episode had passed, Clara packed a picnic basket, filled it with apples, cheeses, crackers and two bottles of wine - and taking her stricken companion by the hand, led her outside. It was a beautiful, warm summer day, and the air was filled with an almost magical golden light. The tall grasses were just beginning to brown, and everywhere around them were explosions of wildflowers, punctuating the hillside with splashes of color. Once they had reached a desirable spot, Clara lay a heavy, multi-colored patchwork quilt down in the grass, and they proceeded with an impromptu picnic. 

Clara intentionally pulled Ashildr close, stroking her hair, kissing her face, hugging her tight - gestures intended not just to arouse but to comfort. Ashildr didn’t respond in kind, her grief was still too raw. But she did not reject any of Clara’s touching, and finally asked just to be held, which Clara did, gladly. 

The combination of wine and warm sun was irresistible. The picnic soon turned into a long, languorous afternoon nap. As they lay together on the quilt, Clara pulled Ashildr close, spooning her; and as Clara draped one arm over Ashildr, they caught each other’s hands and entwined their fingers. It was an unspoken compact. Their relationship was about to change. Both had wanted it for some time, hinted at it, danced around it, and for two people who’d been in each other’s company for nearly a century, they were surprisingly bashful about expressing it. Their clasped hands said what their words could not. From this night forth, they were no longer traveling companions or even just “friends”. They were a couple. 

When they awoke in late afternoon, they spotted a wide stream near the bottom of the hill, and went down to splash some cold water on their faces. They wandered along the banks for a time. Clara couldn’t remember who first spotted the stone cottage. It didn’t matter. They decided to have a look, and found the place deserted. It was well-kept and maintained, however; whoever had lived there knew how to build. The stone walls and the carefully constructed wood roof displayed an artisan’s hand in the details, both practical and ornamental. There was even a fireplace with a chimney, still a rarity at that time. Clara lamented she hadn’t checked the dates more carefully. Had they arrived in a time of plague? It was getting dark, and quickly; as Clara and Ashildr came back outside, it was obvious they couldn’t make it back to the ship, unless they wanted to risk blundering around in the dark - or maybe encountering carnivorous wildlife. Although the cottage had no furniture, it was clean enough, and shelter enough, for one night. 

They retrieved the quilt and the picnic basket from where they’d left them, brought in some firewood from the remnants of a pile next to the cottage, and soon made themselves reasonably comfortable. Their picnic lunch became their supper, and they seated themselves on the quilt near the fire, feasting on apples and cheese, and finishing off the last bottle of wine. Once their supper was completed, Clara brushed the few crumbs from her skirt.

“I want to ask you something,” Clara said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ashildr’s reply was simply an expectant look. By now, most of the extraneous noise of human speech had permanently left their conversation. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while now,” Clara began. “We’ve been traveling together for a long time. And mostly, we’ve done so ‘Doctor-style’. Very helter-skelter. Very frantic. Dashing about. No planning. Getting into scrapes, and getting out by the skin of our teeth. Here one day, gone the next.”

Ashildr frowned. “I thought you liked that.”

“I do,” Clara said. “Or, at least, I did. For the first eighty years or so.”

“You don’t want to stop, do you?”

“Not stop, exactly.” Clara mulled over her next words carefully. “But I would like to... slow down.”

Ashildr was very attentive; this had caught her interest. “Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking, we’ve been traveling the way The Doctor always used to do. But let’s face it, neither of us is The Doctor. We haven’t anything near his level of empathy for people in trouble, nor his gift for improvising practical solutions to unsolvable problems.”

Ashildr smiled. “I don’t think you’re giving us nearly enough credit.”

“Maybe,” Clara conceded. “But I sometimes think... maybe we’re going about this the wrong way. Maybe we should try something else.”

“Like what?”

“Instead of stopping off somewhere for a day, or two, and deliberately trying to force ourselves into an adventure, what if...” she hesitated. “What if we chose a spot, and just... well, stayed there? I don’t mean, permanently. I just mean, longer.”

Ashildr frowned. “What do you mean by ‘longer’?”

“I think, if you’re willing, I’d like to have a different sort of adventure with you,” Clara confided. “If we have entire lifetimes stretching out in front of us, then... let’s spend some together. Find a spot we both like. Settle down. Live, as a couple, in a community. Allow ourselves to feel time passing. For as long as we both feel comfortable. And whenever one or the other of us gets itchy feet, we can start looking for a new place.”

Ashildr gave Clara that special, piercing look that only she could do. “You want to nest.”

“Well... sort of? Yes. I was thinking especially, this might benefit you, if the landscape didn’t entirely change from one day to the next.”

“You mean, because I have trouble remembering anything, unless I write it down.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Clara protested.

“It’s okay,” Ashildr assured her. “I think you’re right.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t just keep my diary. I also have a little notebook that I keep at my bedside. I’ve never shown it to you because, well... I was embarrassed. I write down notes for myself every night before going to bed, something to remind myself what I need to do the next day, or just to refresh the context of the previous day. If I didn’t do that... I’d have trouble coping,” she admitted. “I have learned to live in the moment. And to compensate for a memory I can’t rely upon. But yes, I have real difficulty connecting events from one day to the next. Even yesterday, whatever we did, that’s already a blank. And tomorrow, I will have forgotten all about today. Especially since I don’t have my notebook with me.” 

Clara tried to hide her dismay. “I didn’t realize this was so hard for you.”

Ashildr shrugged. “Like I said. I compensate.”

“Does the idea appeal to you at all?”

“It appeals to me very much.”

“What about the other part? I mean, the part about us being a couple.”

“I think we’ve been a couple for a very long time already. We’ve just never declared it, or acted on it.” Ashildr frowned, not in disapproval, but in serious thought. “I’m very shy. You know that. And after centuries of living alone, I’ve developed some very bad habits. I know I don’t interact with people the way I probably should - even with you, and I really like you.”

“Oh, well, thanks for that,” Clara quipped. 

Ashildr grinned. “I guess I feel if we were really incompatible, we’d have separated long before now,” she allowed. “You’re the person I’m going to be with. That isn’t going to change. We’re already partners in every way I can think of, save one. It just makes sense to share the benefits of sexual partnership as well.”

“That’s very... pragmatic,” Clara deadpanned.

“Like I said. Bad habits.” Ashildr smiled nervously. “I do like you, Clara. I think I may even love you. But...” she paused, obviously embarrassed. “I know you’ve been with other women. But all my lovers have been men.”

“Really,” Clara said, genuinely surprised. “You’ve lived, what, how many centuries longer than me? And you’ve never once wanted to be with another woman?”

“There have been some women in my life I’ve loved very much. But none I’ve slept with, no. I was still framing everything in terms of, ‘Well, they’ll be dead in thirty years and where will I be?’ You have to understand, Clara, most of the time I’ve been alive, I’ve been alone - utterly alone. It’s not a good way to live.”

Ashildr sighed sadly, and stared into the fire for a long moment. 

“I guess I’m just scared. We’ve been very good together. I don’t want to mess that up. And sex can definitely mess things up.”

“That’s true enough,” Clara agreed. “But, as you said, this isn’t impulse. We’ve been together a very long time, and I know you pretty well. As well as anyone can claim to know another person. I don’t want to be apart from you. And I don’t think becoming lovers damages our friendship. I think it will strengthen it.”

Ashildr nodded thoughtfully, considering Clara’s words. “I need to ask a favor, then.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“If I remember none of this tomorrow... please remind me? This is something I want to get into my long term memory. And that only happens with constant repetition.”

“Of course.”

“Do you know where you want to go?”

”What, to settle, you mean?”

”Yes.”

“Well... I want us to make that decision together. So what I’d like you to do, is start thinking about all the places where you’ve considered living - not just visiting. And I’ll make a list, too. And then we’ll combine the lists, and start eliminating possibilities until we arrive at one we both agree on. I know we sort of check with each other before making decisions anyway. But I want to get in the habit of asking you.”

“You’ll remind me about this too, won’t you?”

“Consider it done,” Clara vowed. “In fact, for tonight, consider me your notebook. Tell me what you need to hear first thing tomorrow when you wake. I promise to remember and tell you, exactly as you told me.”

“You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Ashildr nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. Then I guess I should ask, are we having sex here?”

“We can,” Clara allowed. “It might be nice to have you in front of a roaring fireplace,” she admitted with a shy smile. “Mind you, this is a very hard floor, and I doubt we’ll be sleeping very comfortably tonight, even with the quilt.”

Ashildr almost laughed. “I can fix that.”

It was by now completely dark outside. The sky was clear and full of stars. The moon had yet to rise, so Clara improvised a torch with the lit end of a medium size branch, and followed Ashildr outside, where she quickly gathered a large quantity of underbrush, mostly smaller branches festooned with leaves. 

“I learned a long time ago how to make a bed,” Ashildr grinned. “You won’t mistake this for your mattress in your bedroom. But it will be softer and more comfortable than just sleeping on hard ground.”

“How do you know it’s not poison ivy, or something worse?” Clara asked.

“I know,” Ashildr assured her. “Nothing here will irritate the skin.”

They took the foliage back into the cottage, and Ashildr carefully arranged everything on the floor close to the fireplace, then began ferrying huge arm loads of grasses in, and lay those on top, finally laying the quilt on top of all of it. 

“Okay. Lay back on this,” Ashildr instructed. “Slowly. Just in case there’s a branch end that’s going to stick you, or something.”

Clara got down on her hands and knees and carefully rolled herself onto the improvised mattress. She looked up in surprise. 

“Oh, that’s much better,” she exclaimed.

Ashildr sat down on the edge of the mattress and slipped off her boots. She glanced at Clara, and even in the dim firelight, Clara could see Ashildr giving her a look she’d not seen from her before: a shy, almost timid smile, tinged with lust. 

“Can I undress you?” she asked.

“Let’s undress each other,” Clara suggested.

They began removing articles of clothing, slowly, unhurriedly, taking time to explore and appreciate what each new uncovering revealed. Clara and Ashildr had seen each other naked many times in the course of their travels, but never in this context, desiring to please and enjoy each other. There was a genuine sensation of discovery for both of them. 

When they reached a point where they were half-undressed, Clara leaned in and kissed Ashildr very tenderly on the lips. When they finally parted, Ashildr looked into Clara’s eyes; her own eyes were shining and she was trembling slightly. 

“Add that to the notebook,” she said breathlessly. “I want to learn how to kiss you like that.”

“I’ll teach you,” Clara promised, and then she kissed her again.

* * * 

By now, Clara was fully awake, and her body was definitely protesting. She not only needed to relieve herself, she needed, simply, to move. Her joints were stiff and sore, although thankfully Ashildr’s mattress had spared her from some truly awful discomfort. Fortunately, Ashildr was also stirring, and after a moment, she raised her head, her soft brown hair sticking up everywhere, her eyes still puffy with sleep, blinking furiously like a grumpy owl.

“Good morning,” Clara murmured, giving her a radiant smile.

Ashildr pushed herself upright, obviously disoriented and unsure of her surroundings. 

“Are you ready to hear your notebook?” Clara asked, and Ashildr stared at her blankly, still uncomprehending.

“You’re going to wake up with your face in Clara’s boobs,” Clara recited. “Don’t freak out.”

Ashildr stared at her for a moment longer, then visibly relaxed and lay back down, nuzzling her cheek against Clara’s breast.

“You’re in an old stone cottage by a brook,” Clara continued. “The TARDIS is about a mile away. You’re safe.”

Clara ran her free hand up and down Ashildr’s bare back, rubbing gently. Ashildr groaned softly with appreciation. 

“Your notebook also has a short list of reminders,” Clara told her. “Would you like to hear them?”

“Not yet,” Ashildr mumbled. “I need to wake up first.”

“Good,” Clara decided, disentangling herself as gently and as quickly as she could. With an audible groan, she got to her feet, and began to re-dress herself just enough for a quick sprint for the tall grasses. Ashildr watched her, clearly still trying to figure out where she was and what had happened the day before. 

“Where are you going?”

“Needs must,” Clara explained, heading for the door. “Full bottle of wine yesterday. Be right back.”

* * * 

A short while later, both women had fully dressed, and were preparing to return to the TARDIS. Although nothing in the fireplace appeared to be still burning, Clara returned to the stream to fill one of the empty wine bottles, and carefully doused the remaining embers. Ashildr folded up the quilt, and took the rest of her “mattress” outside and scattered it near the stream bank.

They took one last survey of the cottage, and satisfied they were leaving it as they found it, stepped outside into the rapidly warming summer day, and prepared for the short walk back to the ship.

“How much of yesterday do you remember?” Clara asked, picking up the now empty picnic basket. Her question was tactless, but she genuinely wanted to know. 

“Not much,” Ashildr admitted. “I remember I was very sad about something. I don’t remember what. I remember you were kind.” She smiled shyly. “I have a very vivid memory of us having sex in front of a roaring fire. I don’t know what prompted that. But I’m glad it happened.”

“Well, that’s a relief to hear,” Clara deadpanned.

“I’ve wanted that to happen for a long time,” Ashildr confided. “I just couldn’t work up the courage to ask you.”

Clara shook her head. “For someone who’s lived as long as you have, I can’t believe you’re still that shy about anything.”

“Believe it,” Ashildr declared. “When you’ve spent most of your life alone, as I have, and then you finally meet someone who really matters to you, it’s hard not to tie yourself up in knots.”

They began to walk slowly along the banks of the stream, retracing their steps from the day before. 

“Well, add this to your long term memory,” Clara said. “Your new girlfriend expects you to be courageous in taking liberties.”

“I will write that down, the minute we get home,” Ashildr vowed, and then frowned. “Girlfriend,” she repeated, obviously disliking the word. “No. That’s wrong.”

She reached over and slipped her free hand inside Clara’s. 

“I used to walk like this, with each of my husbands,” Ashildr said. “Hands clasped. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, not at all,” Clara assured her.

“Good. Because I’d like to do the same, with my... wife.”

Clara looked at Ashildr, the surprise evident on her face. 

“You just told me to be courageous in taking liberties,” Ashildr reminded her. 

“Yes, I did,” Clara agreed. 

Ashildr smiled at her, a rare, happy, carefree smile. “Do you approve of my choice?”

“Yes,” Clara assured her, returning the smile and squeezing her hand tightly. “I do.” She paused. “Would you really have written that?”

”Written what?”

“What you told me to say to you. If you’d had your notebook with you last night, would you really have written those exact words?”

Ashildr couldn’t help laughing. “It probably would have been much worse.”

“Okay, so, forget the diaries. Your notebook is what I really should be reading.”

”Oh, no, no,” Ashildr groaned. “I’d die of embarrassment.”

”Why?” Clara asked. “All you’re doing is reminding yourself what you need to do the next day, right?”

”Well...”

”Come on, spill. What else is in there?”

Ashildr’s face actually flushed scarlet. “I might have mentioned you,” she allowed. “Several times. In a very... erotic context.”

Clara did her level best to keep a poker face. “Really.”

”Don’t make me show you, please,” Ashildr nearly begged.

”Too late,” Clara declared. “You’ve taken me to wife. From this moment on, dignity goes right out the window.”

Ashildr groaned in mock dismay.

”Or, you could let me be your notebook from now on,” Clara offered. “I mean, if you’re going to give me constant and massive ego strokes in your daily reminders.”

”How about, you leave me my private space to write whatever I please, and I’ll stroke you anywhere you like in real life,” Ashildr countered.

”That seems far too reasonable, but... okay. If it will please you.”

Ashildr squeezed Clara’s hand tightly. “There is one place I want to go, before we start our next adventure,” she confided.

”Sure. When and where?”

”Anyplace we can get properly, legally married? And maybe, by the sea?”

Clara nodded. “I’m sure we can find somewhere suitable,” she answered, with great solemnity.

Hand in hand, the two lovers walked slowly up the hill, in the direction of the TARDIS.


End file.
